After This, I Hope There's Something Else To Read

I just finished reading Alice McDermott’s new book “After This”.

The book has received a rave review from the Trib. I ran right out and got it. Rave reviews will do it every time.

Conan Putnam, from the Trib said “It is hard to know how to start piling on the praise for this gripping, poignant book.”

Okay, you know what I’m going to say? Ready for it?

I don’t like “realism”.

I don’t like it in my books, I don’t like it in my movies, I don’t like it on TV, I don’t like it I don’t like it I don’t like it.

I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with patience. Maybe it has something to do with moving slowly through whatever particular piece of art it is. And maybe, it’s just that I don’t want to invest the time in something where nothing happens.

It’s not that nothing happens in “After This”, but NOTHING HAPPENS.

I tend not to read jacket covers. I often buy a book after reading a couple of lines of the review, or word of mouth, I prefer not to know what my book is about if I can help it.

About halfway through “After This”, I had to hold myself back from reading the jacket, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENS IN THIS BOOK?

Want me to tell you?

The lady marries, has a family, the kids are kids, the husband gets old, one kid goes to college and one goes to war and the other one gets married. Oh, and they go to the beach once. And eat sandy sandwiches.

Big deal.

I’ve always been partial to the dramatic. I love the Russians and their novels, dying of “heartache”, or jumping in front of trains. Dickens and his lonely orphans and their great expectations. Howard Roark building the most important building in the history of man.

I’m sorry. I just can’t get excited about ham sandwiches and pudding.